


who could've thought i'd get you

by twosetmeridian



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Awkward Flirting, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fictober 2020, Flirting, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Museums, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Tags May Change, canon compliant to real life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twosetmeridian/pseuds/twosetmeridian
Summary: every time i look into your eyes, i see it.[ my collection of twoset ficlets and drabbles for fictober 2020. ]
Relationships: Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 44
Kudos: 140





	1. masterlist

**Author's Note:**

> hello, lovely readers! needed opportunities to take breaks from writing the longfics and also real life in general, and so: here we are. maybe some short, spontaneous writing exercises will do this tired writer a world of good, personally. 
> 
> prompts taken from the [fictober 2020 prompt list](https://fictober-event.tumblr.com/prompts20) over at tumblr.
> 
> as always, **please mind the tags for content warnings!** i’ve been told i needed to let people know where the angst in my writings will be, so in the spirit of thoroughness, i’d like to reiterate: **please mind the tags!** if in doubt, please refer to the masterlist below for any chapter-specific content warnings!
> 
> title from _get you_ by daniel caesar ft. kali uchis.
> 
> updates everyday-ish until the end of the month. hope you all enjoy reading! <3

**table of contents**

**1 | “no, come back!”** // gen, twoset and snow.

 **2 | “that’s the easy part”** // gen, twoset reminiscing.

 **3 | “you did this?”** // gen, jewel thief!eddy x special agent!brett.

 **4 | “that didn’t stop you before”** // gen, victorian!au.

 **5 | “unacceptable, try again”** // gen, first meeting!au.

 **6 | “that was impressive”** // gen, perfect pitch and perfect pizz.

 **7 | “yes i did, what about it?”** // gen, camerawork.

[ to be updated ]


	2. 1 | “no, come back!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the world tour concert in oslo brings about brett’s first encounter with snow. they are, understandably, very enthusiastic about the entire thing.

**1 | “no, come back!”**

if brett has to be really honest with himself—only under the threat of possible maiming or otherwise—he picks some snowy countries as stops for the world tour just because they're exactly what they are: _snowy_.

the bitter cold of nordic wind nips at his heels, wrestles with the thin fabric of his scarf to scratch at his throat, but it’s not very noticeable when compared to the sight of the pure expanse of white stretching out into the horizon before him. losing his snow virginity is totally worth the effort of flying out here—aside from, of course, the planned world tour and the slow realization of their dreams coming true and what-not. he can be thankful for many things at once; he’s a multi-tasker.

"hey guys! first time seeing snow in my life," brett explains for the vlog, locking his jaw tight to keep his teeth from chattering. "it's pretty exciting. it's pretty wet.”

eddy grins at him from behind the camera, pointing the lens away towards the snow-laden trees as he leans close to murmur near the shorter man’s ear. “i’d make a provocative joke about your excitement right about now, but then that would just be childish, hey?”

“oh please.” brett rolls his eyes. “you’re just as excited about the snow as i am.” granted, eddy himself had already seen snow before, but. well. his best friend’s right there beside him celebrating this momentous occasion with brett, trivial though it may be, and it’s—touching. sets something behind his breastbone aflame. call him sentimental, sure; eddy doesn’t have to know.

it takes just a few more minutes admiring the scenery for brett to realize that his body, virgin as it is to any snowy encounters and all that that entails, isn’t ready for long-term exposure to the cold. he’s getting ready to trudge back to the safe, warm confines of the oslo konserthus when an icy sensation jolts his spine and _oh._

well. eddy’s just shoved a handful of snow down inside his jacket. what the _fuck_.

shaking the intruding article off his clothes, brett begins to march away, angry stomps thumping through the ivory slush as his best-friend-but-not-at-the-moment-no-thanks laughs and laughs and generally makes a fool of himself.

“hey, wait, no, come back!” despite the plea, his words are stained with laughter, and the idiot isn’t even bothering to stifle it. what a fucking traitor. brett doesn’t bother turning around. “i’m sorry—brett, i’m sorry!”

“no, you’re _not_ sorry, you absolute _fucker_ ,” he growls, but then eddy catches up to him, a hand placed on his shoulder to pivot brett around, to make him face that mischievous smile.

“sorry.”

“no.”

“just thought you might appreciate a more intimate encounter with snow, that’s all.”

“thank you for your interest in expanding my natural worldview, but not like this.” brett huffs, hugging his arms tight around himself as the chill on his skin begins to settle within. “god, i’m _cold_.”

eddy looks at him for a silent moment, and then steps closer, taking hold of the edges of his long coat and folding them around the other man like a cocoon, brett tucked safely against his chest. “i’m sorry. would you appreciate a more intimate encounter with me instead?”

brett rolls his eyes even harder this time around, but with eddy’s arms wrapped tight around him, warmth an enveloping embrace that seeps into his bones and clings tight, brett decides: fine. his best friend can be forgiven.

after all, he can return the favor later.

(and he does. he slips and falls to the ground after the successful attempt, but he does. eddy shivers and bares his teeth in the kind of smile one makes when trying to survive mild torture. brett, thoughtful as he is, offers to let eddy take refuge again inside the coat he’d given brett earlier—and that’s how they make their way back inside: entwined around each other, sharing heat between them, two peas in a warm pod.)


	3. 2 | “that’s the easy part”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a little bout of reminiscing goes a long way.

**2 | “that’s the easy part”**

the thought takes root in eddy’s mind long before he figures out that it’s there in the first place, and so he’s surprised when the question comes spilling out all casually just like that, like the answer doesn’t mean the absolute world to him.

“do you ever regret doing twoset?”

brett’s eyes flicker open. he looks like a grumpy feline roused indignantly from a good nap, but he’s not saying anything to cease the line of inquiry. well, he’s already broached the topic; there’s nothing to it but to continue, then.

“you could’ve been a soloist, i mean,” eddy murmurs, “or even just stayed first chair if you hadn’t left the orchestra. or concertmaster. forever and ever. you’d have a stable career if you didn’t try the youtube shtick with me, so.” he raises his eyebrows: _do you regret it?_

the other man blinks once, twice. “no, i don’t. there’s so much shit i regret, but doing twoset isn't one of them.” the lines of his eyes soften, his mouth curling at the corners like he’s hearing something in eddy’s words that hasn’t made it out eddy’s throat. “i don’t regret anything where you’re concerned.”

at that, eddy’s throat closes up. _fuck._ he can’t say anything as an immediate response at the moment, so he opts to nod sharply. brett closes his eyes again.

“why? do _you_ regret doing it?”

when the question’s inevitably thrown back at him, eddy’s already prepared his response. “no. i’d never regret doing it.” everything unspoken simmers between them in the late afternoon sun, inaudible but heard and known all the same. “all these years, it’s been tough, but it’s all been worth it.”

brett snorts. “yeah, i won’t say things have been a walk in the park. take the world tour planning. take the apparel marketing stuff. take the fucking _kickstarter campaign._ ” he shudders, and eddy feels every tremor minutely. “my spine will never forget the feel of hard bench underneath it.”

“no regrets, still, in the light of remembering shit like that?”

“nah. still all been worth it.” the shorter man rearranges himself on the couch, his head a welcome weight on eddy’s lap, strands of hair splayed across the fabric of eddy’s pyjamas like they belong there. “everything’s been an uphill struggle, save for one thing.”

eddy tilts his head, curious. “what’s that?”

“loving you.” brett opens his eyes and smiles, then: sunshine incarnate. “that’s the easy part.”

and when it comes to the truest thing he has ever heard put into words, there is nothing else for it. eddy leans down, presses his mouth to that siren call of a grin, and thanks every deity out there that this: this comes easy to him too.


	4. 3 | “you did this?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a jewel thief and a special agent walk into a museum. there’s a punchline in there somewhere, but they’re too busy awkwardly flirting for us to figure it out.

**3 | “you did this?”**

"there is reliable information," the chief had droned out to a room full of police investigators that evening, "that suggests the thief who calls himself v.k. is planning a heist at the new _nouveau splendor_ exhibit in a few hours. yang, since this is your case, you go scope out the area and, if possible, catch him in the act."

and that's how brett finds himself dispatched to the nearby museum half an hour ahead of the criminal's supposed timeframe to arrive at the scene and steal some priceless jewelry. maybe there's something about showing up ahead of time, something about how the early bird catches the worm, because he also finds himself catching the thief fussing about the main entryway to the exhibit, finds himself idly admiring the lithe, strong curves of the man's body before he snaps back to the present, and. um.

fuck, but that's a _criminal_ right there, and he'd been checking him out. _fuck_.

he mentally slaps himself. back to the _very serious_ matter at hand.

it's strange that the man he knows to be the notorious thief v.k. is hanging around the area he's supposedly robbing for more than the amount of time it should take him to yank one of the stunning pieces of jewelry laid out around the room. he's even wearing a glittery-evening sort of mask over his eyes, leaving the lower half of his face uncovered. he looks kinda like zorro, which is a weird thought to have.

brett takes one silent step forward. two. three. just as he's about to whip out his gun and yell something suitably police-like, brett finally sees exactly what's going on. and stops dead in his tracks.

v.k is painting words on some fabric strung up the pillars. the banner says: _this robbery's dedicated to agent yang, the formidable tom to my discerning jerry!_ there's a shitty attempt at drawing the cartoon characters underneath the words.

"what the—"

" _shit!_ " the paintbrush in the man's hand falls to the ground, clattering against the polished tile. it leaves flecks of green in its wake; brett's pretty sure that's about to become some poor janitor's nightmare come morning, but he's still too shell-shocked by the whole thing. "you're not supposed to be here," v.k. says, sounding indignant. "i mean—yet."

"you're not supposed to be here either," brett murmurs absentmindedly, mouth spouting words on autopilot as he stares and stares and stares at the message dripping green paint in front of him.

"ah, well." the taller man shrugs. "my not-supposed-to-be-here thing's already a given; i'm a thief, remember?"

given the months and months brett's spent as the special agent assigned to the v.k. case file, this isn't exactly how he'd imagined his very first conversation with v.k. would unfold. frankly, he'd thought they'd exchange a few terse words when he manages to bring the man to justice. not, well, _chatting_ all casually like they're neighbors or workplace acquaintances and not, in fact, on opposite sides of the law.

brett doesn't know what to make of it.

"um." his gaze flickers back and forth between the man and the banner. "you did this?"

"who the fuck else could've done this, a preschooler tour guide?" he can't see v.k.'s expression clearly from where the other stands shrouded in the shadows, but there may be a slight hint of offense taken there, he thinks. "of course it was me!"

"yeah, okay. it—it looks really great." brett takes a deep, steadying breath. drags out all the training he's had and begins to take stock of the details presented to him by the environment.

there's a banner with a dedication on it, seemingly made in his honor. there's cases upon cases of glimmering gems on velvet cushions all prime for the taking and yet no thievery is going around at all. and v.k. is—

he's just. he's just standing there. his foot tapping wildly against the marble floors, mouth a frowny thin line, fingers twitching—like time's running out, but he's still waiting for something. and god, brett really shouldn't do this, doesn't think it's a possibility, doesn't even wanna think about what would happen if he'd jumped into the wrong conclusion, but just on the slightest off chance he might be right—

"if all you wanted was to get my attention," brett says lightly, like it's no big deal, like he's speaking to a horse that can get so easily spooked, "you could've just called, you know. sent a text or something."

it's worth every inch of potential mortification to see those cheeks flush red when the thief sputters, incomprehensible syllables tumbling out of his lips before he finally settles on: "shut up!"

"i mean, my number's on the public directory of the website—"

"i don't need it."

"are you sure, because i'm looking at a banner with my name on it, and—"

"i said i don't need it!"

brett raises his hands in surrender. "right. okay. okay." he pauses, clears his throat. "but i mean, it's _there_ if you wanted it. not assuming anything, but you know."

v.k.'s smirk is positively filthy. "i'll keep that in mind." he taps his chin and then hums, slowly strolling forward to pluck a ruby-studded ring from the nearest display case. "oh, right, the real show for tonight."

at that, brett's law-abiding nature comes into the foreground so fast, he gets whiplash. "i can't let you take that," he begins, stepping forward and reaching for the piece of jewelry. his fingers just barely miss the other man's hand before the ring's hoisted up to the air, out of his reach.

the thief chuckles. "oh, don't worry, it's all yours." he pushes into brett's personal space and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away with a shit-eating grin. "that's all what i wanted for tonight anyway."

and.

 _what_.

it's brett's turn to sputter wildly, mouth opening and closing like a window with faulty blinds. "what the hell was _that_?"

v.k. steps away, tips an imaginary hat in brett's direction as he begins to walk backwards into the shadows again. "let's have dinner one day, and maybe i'll tell you."

the thief disappears. there is faint shouting coming from down the hall.

and if brett sits at the foot of the fire exit twiddling his thumbs for a good minute or two as the alarms start blaring off in the distance—well. brett's not really letting the criminal get away with this, not really. he's only. . . giving him a head start. that's all.

(v.k. did promise dinner.)

(v.k had also swiped a bracelet with vs1 diamonds and colombian emeralds behind brett's back, but that is neither here nor there. brett makes him give it back much, _much_ later, anyway.)


	5. 4 | “that didn’t stop you before”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> high society dictates propriety between men. in the case of married men, however: there’s always more reason to worry over one’s reputation, especially around the wrong kind of crowd.

**4 | “that didn’t stop you before”**

they’ve always walked into a ballroom together, even before they got married. and yet—their footfalls stop by the doorway, one pair of legs far more hesitant than the other.

“there’s a crowd out there.”

“that didn’t stop you before.” the hand at the crook of the taller man’s elbow tightens. “what changed?”

“this.” a free hand takes another, tilts slender fingers towards the light as the ring around one gleams golden. “i don’t want them to hurt you.”

the shorter one scoffs. “with their words? surely not.”

“you’ve a spine as strong as iron, dear. that still doesn’t make me want to _not_ protect you.”

“always my knight in shining armor.” a gentle, fond laugh. “you got me. we can do this together. and if they say something they shouldn’t in our general direction, well. we can always tell their mothers.”

“what, tell them to scrub their children’s tongues with soap?”

“something to that effect.” the shorter man adjusts his grip on the hand in his grasp, touches his lips to the ring that matches the one on his own finger. “i don’t care what anyone has to say. there’s nothing anyone can do to make me give you up, now that i’ve got you.”

“well, when you put it that way,” the taller one smiles, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on his partner’s cheek.

there will be time for more passionate displays of affection later. for now, they have a ballroom to conquer, and there can be no progress towards mastering high society without first the physical steps to bring them within.

“lead on, husband. let us see what they will have to say to the wonder of us.”


	6. 5 | “unacceptable, try again”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eddy struggles through a particularly gruelling aural skills class. brett doesn’t know him but helps anyway.

**5 | “unacceptable, try again”**

"unacceptable. try again."

eddy gritted his teeth in the way one does when faced with an insurmountable obstacle. in this case, it was this fucking aural skills class. which was an obstacle that was—kinda laughable, really, when he stopped to think about it. he was never telling belle any of this.

the class wasn't supposed to be a hurdle in any way, not with what he imagined were _passable_ aural skills and perfect pitch. imagine his frustration when the lessons proved monstrous for everyone involved and the professor deemed him inadequate in front of the class far too many times than was probably necessary. eddy ducked back into his seat and glared down at the music sheet spread open over his lap.

there had to be some way to—

"it's _ti ti_."

eddy blinked at the stranger seated beside him, a sudden intruder encroaching on his personal bubble. sharp eyes greeted him from behind black-framed glasses; the sight of them made something in his chest stop dead in its tracks. "sorry, what?"

"eighth notes; it's _ti_ _ti_." the bespectacled man pointed towards the particular staff he was having trouble with. " _ti-ka ti-ka_ is for semi-quavers."

"oh." it took eddy a few moments to realize that this was actually an attempt at helping him with the clapping, which was quite frankly embarrassing. "shit, you're right. thanks, uh," he trailed off, peering at the other curiously. eddy had no idea who on earth he was, but considering the helpful tip and maybe a _little bit_ about the way the sunlight bounced off that short-cropped hair, he wouldn't be averse to making this stranger's acquaintance.

"brett." the man smiled. god, but it was a punch to the gut eddy was _not_ expecting.

"eddy. hi." he waved a hand in the other's direction. "thanks again."

"no worries." brett slumped down further into his chair and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. the motion caused his sleeves to brush against eddy's exposed forearm. "figured i'd help around and make friends that way."

well. that was a good sign, right? "maybe i can repay the favor later on, somehow," eddy told him. "i've got perfect pitch."

"good for you, mister hotshot," brett smirked. "i'll keep that in mind."

(it wasn't everyday you could meet your soulmate on a sultry thursday morning in uni classes, but brett and eddy, well—maybe they're just one of the lucky ones.)


	7. 6 | “that was impressive”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> appreciating your best friend’s talent comes easy when they’re prodigious.

**6 | “that was impressive”**

after a few minutes of silence after brett's last joke, it's becoming very apparent that eddy's out to fuck with him now. probably.

it's the way he's slumped against the back of the couch, long legs flung over the edge as he watches brett practice his pizzicato, eyes fixed and unstraying. there's a little bit of adoration in that smile, a little bit of worship in that gaze, and god help him, but brett has no idea what to do with any of it. it's distracting, truth be told, but. he has to _practice_.

so, he turns back to his sheet music, plucking the strings as he plays. back and forth. over and over. repetition. muscle memory. he still feels those eyes burning a hole through his head, even without looking over his shoulder once.

 _don't look over. don't look over._ brett looks. eddy's smile is sliding into the beginnings of a dopey grin, his eyes flaring like 4th of july sparklers, and—that's it. it's over. brett is successfully distracted, fuck it.

he lowers his violin as he confronts his singular audience. "what the hell are you doing?"

"me? just admiring."

brett raises an eyebrow. "really?"

"that was impressive."

brett snorts. " _really_?"

"well, yeah, you were always great at the pizz."

" _perfect pizz boy_ , huh?" it's that old fan moniker he got ages ago. brett shakes his head, points at his best friend with his violin bow. "and you're _perfect pitch boy_."

eddy shrugs, not denying it. "perfect pitch doesn't really score you that much in day to day living. perfect _pizz_ , though." he leans back and looks up at brett with a disgustingly masterful look of innocence. "they'll know you've got really good fingers."

"oh?" try as he might, he can't quite stifle the snicker. brett puts his instrument down on the table as he smirks. "what makes really good fingers so important, then? what are their uses? go on, enlighten me."

"many things," eddy drawls, voice pitching low, gravel in the dirt. brett is half-expecting a dirty jab or a flirty joke to follow through, but then his best friend is standing up and moving closer and wrapping his hands around brett's own, and _oh god, oh fuck_.

eddy places a gentle kiss upon each of brett's palms like a benediction, clasps brett's hands together in his grasp and pulls them towards his chest and the steady thundering beneath. "holding my heart together and keeping it safe, most of all."

 _his_ heart feels like it's climbing out of his throat; brett can be forgiven the sputtering before he can make a proper response. "you sap."

" _your_ sap." eddy places one last kiss on brett's knuckles before he lets go, slings an arm around the shorter man's shoulder. "c'mon, rest those really good fingers of yours for a while. let's go get bubble tea."

they leave together: their fingers entwined, their laughter in pitch perfect tune.


	8. 7 | “yes i did, what about it?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eddy confronts brett over surreptitiously filming him.

**7 | "yes i did, what about it?"**

it's only by sheer coincidence that eddy realizes he's being filmed.

he's lost in the performance, as he's wont to be. the world tends to fade around the edges, all blurry and unfocused when the music takes precedence; he's known to forget everything else when he isn't paying attention.

he lets the last note of the phrase take flight into the air, preparing to dive right into spiccato when he looks up—and then his bow skids against the strings. _the hell?_

"did you just film me?"

brett smirks from behind the camera, fiddling with the buttons as the device makes an excited _beep!_ "yes i did, what about it?"

fuck, he hadn't even noticed. eddy jabs his violin bow in the other man's direction. "you've been filming this whole time?"

"yep." brett hums the first few notes of the tchaik adjacent to eddy's wordless disbelief. he looks up to meet his gaze again after a few moments. "oops. sorry, i should've asked."

"i mean, it's fine, but," eddy frowns, gauging possible responses he can make to that. _i look silly on camera_ is something he can joke about. _you're wasting battery and card space_ is what he should probably say. only one word makes it out in the end: "why?"

brett looks down at the floor, gaze pensive for a moment. "well, y'know. i don't need a photograph or a video recording to remember you." he taps his chest with splayed fingers as if to say, _you're already here, what else do i need?_ "but some evidence would be nice to have too. something to look at, something to share between us five, ten years from now." something sad curls itself at the corner of brett's smile. "no matter where we are in the world."

eddy blinks, moves carefully to put down his instrument where his trembling fingers won't accidentally break it. the thunder-rage of his heart threatens to shatter his ribcage open. if this is why brett's secretly filming him all the time (he only pretends not to notice)—well. he's not going to stand for it at all.

"if you're planning to get rid of me to go off somewhere else, you've got another thing coming." eddy grins as brett rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he turns away, but eddy's not letting him escape from this conversation just yet, _no way_. "no, i'm serious. you won't need evidence either. you're stuck with me for the next week. the next year. five years from now. ten years from now."

brett looks up at him, then, as he moves closer, the rawness in his eyes mirroring the exposed organ in eddy's chest, laid out at his best friend's mercy. "forever?"

"if you'd like."

"i'd like," brett tells him, reaching out to meet eddy's outstretched hand halfway. the dawn is in his smile, glorious and bright. eddy's looking forward to watching the sunrise for the rest of his life. "i'd like that a lot."


End file.
